Yesterday's Feelings, Tomorrow's Regrets
by Nine Volt Heart
Summary: Just because you had a harsh night, doesn't mean tomorrow will be better.


"I need liquor."

I didn't even notice as my right arm moved to the tabletop and my head moved to the top of my arm. I had a major migraine and was as tired as hell.

"Oh come on Jewels, it couldn't have been _that_ bad." My best friend, Amy Greene, protested as she set a mug of warm tea down next to my hand.

I flashed her a glare and picked up the mug. Tracing the small writing over with my fingers, I thought of how today went.

A long, heavy sigh escaped as these thoughts crossed my mind.

"Amy, it was THAT bad," I claimed, taking a deep drink from the small, fragile cup, "Ugh, I never want to go back there. I don't think I could take it."

"Oh, Julia, I'm sure it'll be fine. All you have to do is.. uhh… adapt! Yeah, that's it, just give it some time. You'll be alright." She replied, giving me a weak smile and a reassuring pat on the back.

I barely had enough energy to return the grin. What it came out like was a deformed, creepy, half-smile sort of thing.

Going back to my tea, I started a new conversation. Something else to complain about as usual.

"Well, if it wasn't for that jackass I have to put up with all the time, I wouldn't be in this damn situation."

The rant had begun and I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

"Julia, you can't blame Rick for every supposedly 'horrible' thing that happens to you."

_God I wish she wouldn't disagree with me when I'm in 'rant mode.' _I thought to myself.

"You know very damn well that I can Amy." My eyes narrowed and I pushed the tea away. Amy slumped into a chair with a grim expression.

"He's the one who sent me to this so-called 'private school' in the first place!" I cried. She just looked up at me and scoffed. I shook my head as she rolled her eyes.

"Jewels, you don't even give him a chance." She objected.

"A-a chance?" I stuttered, eyes growing wide, "A _chance_?"

"Yeah," She said slowly with a confused look on her face, "You know, like, letting him get to know you a bit better. Or just spending some time together. At least _try_ to get along with him."

Hearing this, I could pretty much tell that my eyes were burning a hole straight through her face.

"What the fuck Amy? The man has been here for almost a year now. You don't think I've given him plenty chances before!"

"Well, no, I-I mean sure, but.." She was at a loss for words.

_Woo. Here it comes. Going into major rant time._

"You've seen it before. Whenever I give him a chance, he always finds a way to fuck things up!" I yelled, turning away from her.

Amy drew in a deep breath before continuing. Almost acting like she could have slapped the shit out of me.

"Look, so what, he's not perfect. Nobody is perfect. Everyone deserves a few chances to get things right."

_Jeez, she sounds like she's teaching some kind of twisted Sunday school. _I thought to myself.

"Hah, you sure got that right. He's far from perfect. Very far. Like, centuries away." I spoke a bit more calmly and not like I was in 'rant mode extreme' any longer.

Walking over to the cupboard, I retrieved a glass and began to fill it with ice-cold water. Sitting back down at the table, my rant had ended.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She snapped.

The way she said that last bit was enough to make me go off. My fuse was burnt to the bottom of the bomb.

"_What's that supposed to mean? _Oh, you mean you don't know? Well does you mother come home fucking beyond wasted when she goes out? No. Do your parents go out and not show up 'til the next morning? No. Is your mother to fucking drunk to even give a shit anymore? NO. So don't go telling me to give that son of a bitch another chance!" I could feel my face turning beet red and steaming.

Amy looked at me like I was crazy. She had every reason to though. I had never mentioned any of this to her before. None of my friends knew. They just all automatically assume that my life is perfect. It's hard to be at the top of the 'popularity chain'. People don't know about your _real_ life. Let alone, give a fuck in the first place. And even if you did decide to tell someone, the original story would end up coming back to you in the most twisted rumor possible. Amy's expression softened and became more sympathetic.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" She asked, looking a little hurt.

"No, no, look… I wasn't tryng to be all secretive about it. It's just-"

_Creak_.


End file.
